


Just Three Days

by Svn_f1ower



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Harley Keener is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Hurt Harley Keener, Hurt Peter Parker, Malibu Mansion, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Harley Keener are Brothers, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whump, Worried Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-01-16 06:05:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18515422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Svn_f1ower/pseuds/Svn_f1ower
Summary: Tony has to go on a business trip for three days and Harley is flying home from MIT in just two. Peter's going to be fine, it's just three days, right?---- Based on scenes from 'Two Step' (2014) ---





	1. Answering Machine

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by a few scenes from the movie 'Two Step' - it's awesome, check it out!
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> Anyone else who has any ideas or questions - please just go ahead and ask me! You can message me on Tumblr, (Agib-2002) you can leave an anon ask if you're shy, <3 or just leave them in the comments on one of my fics!
> 
> <3 Leave a comment, I hope you enjoy!

“Do you have to go, Dad?” Peter watched Tony as he haphazardly rolled up jeans and neatly folded dress pants before laying them out in a suitcase.

 

“Yep, its part of the job description buddy.” Tony slowed his movements and smiled apologetically in Peter’s direction. “I’m sorry, kiddo. It’s only three days and I’ll call whenever I can, okay?” He dropped one of the ties he was rolling up onto the bed and crossed the room to lay a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “You’ll probably want me gone again as soon as I’m home,” he joked lightly. “But seriously, I left a spare card on the bench beside your wallet. I expect to see you ordering takeout or something, don’t forget to eat proper dinner unlike last time.” Peter rolled his eyes as he tilted his head up to watch his father finish packing.

 

“I’ll miss you though,” Peter mumbled with sincerity. Tony zipped up his suitcase and turned to face his son with a softer expression on his face.

 

“I know, kid. I’ll miss you too. It’s only a few days, and don’t forget Harley’s coming in two, so you’re not going to be bored the whole time.” Peter perked up at his Dad’s words, he had forgotten his brother was visiting after his last exam. “Yeah,” Tony grumbled without heat at the excitable look on Peter’s face. “You two better not set the house on fire while I’m gone,” he sighed with a fond smile. “Lord knows what you two get up to when I’m not around.”

 

“Don’t worry, Dad, we’ll only set things on fire in the workshop.” Peter smiled widely and ducked under the hand Tony reached out to ruffle through his hair with a laugh.

 

“You’re hilarious,” Tony said sarcastically. He clicked the handle of his suitcase up and dragged it towards the door with Peter trailing him to the driveway. Happy was leaning against the passenger door and looking at his watch, unimpressed.

 

“Let’s get moving!” He called, adjusting his sunglasses and shaking his head tiredly when Tony called for a few more minutes to say goodbye.

 

“You’re going to be fine on your own for a night or two, Harley will no doubt keep you entertained and then we can all relax once I’m back. Love you, kiddie.” Tony pushed a patch of Peter’s curls down and pressed a quick kiss against his forehead before tapping his chin with a smile. “Head up, buddy. You’ll be okay, call Rhodes if you’re bored – but no prank calling the armed forces like me, do as I say, not as I do.”

 

Peter scoffed quietly and let his Dad pull him into a one-armed hug. He lifted his arms to wrap them around Tony’s and leaned into the embrace without hesitation. “Be safe, no parties, stranger danger and all that other stuff parents are supposed to enforce.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter groaned, a half smile on his lips as he pulled back from the hug. “I’ll be okay, I’m fifteen now. I’ll see you in a few days.”

 

“See ya, bud,” Tony stepped back towards the car, leaving Peter in the driveway beside the front door. 

 

“Bye,” Peter waved as Tony and Happy got into the car. His oversized top hung over his fingertips as he said goodbye. He curled his arms around himself and watched the car backing up and turning around. He could hear as his Dad hit the horn in two friendly beeps and also saw the silhouette of Happy smacking his hands away from the wheel as he drove. He smiled to himself and gently closed the door on the way back inside.

 

It was early Tuesday afternoon, Harley was supposed to arrive sometime tomorrow, and then their Dad would get back late Thursday evening.

 

 _I can entertain myself until then_.

 

Peter wandered around the kitchen for a few minutes until he found a half-finished packet of chips, which he snatched up quite happily and took into the dining room with him. A scattered collection of school work and practice tests were spread out across the table.

 

The chair scraped across the wooden floor as Peter sat and picked up a pen. He figured if he finished off the last of what little homework he had, the less time he would have to waste doing it when Harley was home. He didn’t have much to do, considering it was school break, but he did have things he needed to get done before school. Like a haircut. He needed one, _badly_.

 

His hair had surpassed his ears, so much so that the ends were furling up into a small thatch of curls at the nape of his neck. When he leaned forward, what had used to be a fringe fell in front of his face, reaching down past his lips at some points, and irritating him to no end.

 

Peter quickly brushed a section of curls back to tuck them behind his ear as he settled in to get the remainder of his work finished before he needed to call and order food.

 

The work was easy enough, he just needed to fill in a sheet of physics he hadn’t done during the school term and answer a small group of questions on a book he had to review for English.

 

It only took him two hours, minus the amount of times he stood up to rummage around in the kitchen or got distracted on his phone. By the time he was putting his pen down, he felt about ready to eat an entire pizza all to himself.

 

Tony had always taught him and Harley to use the landline for everything except personal calls. He didn’t want either of his boys to have their phones traced, meaning anyone could track them at any time, including when they were on their own, away from the protection of the house. It was a simple rule, but Peter always followed it, so when he stood up and made his way over to the phone and saw the red light blinking, he arched an eyebrow in curiosity.

 

Nobody called the home phone, everyone Tony, Harley and Peter knew would just call their mobile phones directly, so seeing the red light indicating a voicemail had been left was… _odd_ … to say the least. He yawned slowly and disregarded the message for the time being – a shower sounded more appealing than listening to what was probably just a telemarketer.

 

\----

 

The water was hot, enough so that it left Peter’s chest and arms red and tingly. His hair stood up on its end when he stepped out onto the bathmat. The mirror was fogged over from the steam, but he could see the outline of his dripping mop of hair, which needed to be towel dried.

 

In the corner of the mirror he could barely make out the small fingerprints he and Harley had left as children. He bit the inside of his cheek to hold back an impromptu smile – he couldn’t wait to see his brother. It had been almost three entire months since the last time Harley had flown over from college to visit. A flight from Massachusetts to Los Angeles Airport, plus the drive home to Malibu would probably take Harley about seven hours in total.

 

Peter rubbed some of the condensation off the mirror and roughly rubbed a towel over his head until his hair was almost completely dry. After his mess of curls had been tackled, he padded back across the hall and into his room. He pulled a dark blue, long-sleeved shirt over his head and stepped into the comfiest pair of grey jeans he owned, not even bothering with a belt seeing as all he’d be doing was going to bed after dinner.

 

He checked that the card was where his Dad had said it would be, before pushing the entire wallet into his pocket and resting against the wall beside the phone again.

 

The red light was _still_ blinking. For some reason, Peter hadn’t really given much thought to it, half expecting the thing to just go away on its own during his shower. But of course, that wasn’t the case.

 

Peter ran one hand through his hair and pushed off the wall, leaning forward instead to press the play button. The answering machine crackled slightly from disuse before a man’s voice, which Peter had never heard before, played through the speaker.

 

“Tony! Tony,” Peter heard a puff of air and a car moving in the background. It sounded like whoever was calling had dialled from inside a car, considering the bang of a door closing followed. There was an exhale and then the sound of a shoe scuffing against gravel – the caller had just stomped out a cigarette. “It’s Ronny, how are ya?” 

 

Peter frowned, the name had never been mentioned before, as far as he knew, Tony had never met a _Ronny_ before. “Are you there?” He had a Texan accent, it was a drawn-out drawl and for some reason it made Peter shiver. He tucked his hands up into the sleeves of his shirt. “Can you pick up?” Peter checked the timestamp on the message, it was from forty-two minutes ago. He hadn’t even heard the phone ring. “Look, I’m sorry we – we ah, haven’t talked in a while… I don’ know, you helped me out so much before, I – I guess I was embarrassed ‘bout it.”

 

 _Helped me out_? There was one thing Peter knew about his Dad and his policy on lending it to people – he didn’t. Not unless they were trustworthy, or practically part of the family, and there was nobody that close to Tony who went by the name _Ronny_. Peter knew his Dad donated money, and bought people things on the occasion, he was well off, but he never really… shelled out cash to random people. “I hate to say it, but… I really need your help again. Uhm, don’t wire anything into that account like ya did last month, it uh, it don’t work no more."

 

Who the hell was Ronny and why was he so deadest on his Dad wiring him money?

 

There was a long pause, some rustling in the background, and then the man spoke again. “Look, I’m sorry I missed ya, but I can see the lights are on –”

 

Peter froze up, his entire body tensing as every hair stood on end. “Listen, I’m in a real tight bind right now, I – I still need a lot more, like two grand.” _Shit_ … this guy wanted two thousand dollars from Tony – well that was the least of Peter’s problem, considering what the man had just said. _I can see the lights are on_.

 

It was almost beginning to get dark, he was alone with someone on the phone claiming they could see the lights were on… Peter felt an icy mass of worry bubbling in his chest, he shuddered and stepped back from the answering machine. “You just need to give me a cheque made out to cash, okay?”

 

He jolted when two knocks came from the front door around the corner.

 

He was alone, with no protection, and someone was at the door as the message beeped to signify its finish. “Tony?” The voice wasn’t coming from in front of Peter, it was too clear, too crisp. “I – it’s Ronny.” The man was on the doorstep, wrapping his knuckles against the glass. “You there?”

 

Peter could see the outline of his figure through the frosted window pane. The man was about a head or so taller than him, not bulky but not scrawny like he was. The man leaned forward, trying to make something out through the glass.

 

Peter opened his mouth and stepped back in fright. He was defenceless. He put a hand over his lips to stifle the rapid increase of his breathing. He felt like a cornered rabbit. “Hello? Tony, man, look I’m not gonna do anything. I’m just in a real tight place here and you’re the only one who can help.”

 

He could hear the clear desperation in the man’s voice. He sounded anxious… maybe Peter was being paranoid. Tony had gone to MIT just like where Harley was now, he probably had heaps of old friends that Peter had never met. It made sense for Tony to help someone out, he wasn’t selfish, he knew how lucky he was to have the amount of wealth he did. It was rare for him to not give someone money, so maybe Peter was just on edge after the whole comment about Ronny knowing the lights were on.

 

He hesitantly took a step out from behind the wall dividing the front entranceway from the hall. Peter knew the levels of paranoia and suspicion were always higher when he was alone – so he tried to force his heart out from where it felt lodged in his throat.

 

The teen shuffled forwards, feeling less skittish now that the adrenaline had faded somewhat. The knocking died down as soon as his own form became visible in the tinted glass. He wasn’t acting under fight or flight instincts, but he still swallowed nervously as he twisted the handle and pulled the door inwards.

 

He was met with the sight of a man, not surprisingly, he had never seen before in his life. Ronny had too-sharp, angled cheekbones, bony hands and dirty blonde hair. He was wearing a button up shirt and jeans with a belt, unlike Peter.

 

The boy suddenly felt out of place, standing in the doorway in an oversized and baggy shirt which swallowed his hands whole and old, grey jeans with his unbrushed curls dangling in his face. He self-consciously tucked his hair behind his ears and ignored the way he could feel the sides curling up into two perfect half-coils. He knew he looked younger than he was, especially in such a large shirt.

 

The man had dark blue eyes, they looked almost yellow in the odd lighting. He was staring directly at Peter, putting him on edge. “Well,” Ronny laughed, “you’re not Tony, are ya?” His eyes raked up and down Peter’s body, making him tense again. His teeth were almost too long, his smile too large, eyes too alight with desperation. There were so many bad vibes and Peter wished he had just turned off the lights and called Rhodey when he had the option.

 

He blinked, suddenly realising Ronny was still staring at him expectantly, intense eyes locked onto his face.

 

“Uhm… n – no,” Peter managed to force out. “He uh – he had to run out,” he lied. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew not to tell strangers who showed up at your doorstep that your parents were out – it just gave them all the more encouragement to snatch you, or whatever bad thing adults thought would happen if they left their kids alone.

 

Ronny nodded, swaying on his heels and peeking past Peter slightly to look down the hallway, as if he didn’t believe him. “But he told me t – to tell you that he’d be back in an hour? Or probably about an hour and a half.” He felt like he was lying through his teeth but hopefully the fact that he looked so young would play up his innocence.

 

He licked his lips and shifted his weight to another foot, looking up at the man in front of him wearily.

 

“He told you to tell me?” Ronny repeated with a wider grin. He wouldn’t stop smiling and Peter felt like shrinking into an even more oversized shirt and hiding amongst the fabric to get away from those piercingly focused blue eyes.

 

“Y – yeah, yeah… you – you’re Ronny, right?” Peter kept one hand on the doorframe, one lone curl slipped out from behind his ear as he turned to lift his chin a little higher, cautiously looking up at the man to hear his reply.

 

“Yeah, yeah that’s me, Ronny.” A silence hung between them for a moment, Peter nodded timidly and looked from the floor back up to the man’s face. “So, we know that I’m Ronny and Tony’s out, so who are you?” Peter opened his mouth to reply, faltering for a moment before answering.

 

“Peter… I’m Peter. I uh, I just – I help him to do stuff…” Ronny smiled wider, if that was possible, closing his eyes and nodding as if he understood perfectly.

 

“Ahh, yeah, like home intern, huh?” His teeth flashed in the afternoon light, the reflection of the sun off the water caught his eyes in the same way, making him seem a lot larger than life. Scarier, less of a person and more of a threat. “I don’ know how you stand to do all that coffee fetchin’ and paper signing.”

 

Peter nodded along, simply because Ronny seemed to be doing the same, but he frowned slightly at the man’s derogatory job description and looked back down to the floor with slightly redder cheeks. “So, uh, lemme get this straight, you want me to leave and return to this spot in exactly an hour and a half from now?” Peter looked up from the floor, taking a breath and ignoring the additional loose curls which fell into his face as he shifted.

 

“Yeah,” he answered quietly, his head somewhat devoid of any other statements. All his mind was conjuring in the moment was the mantra of _please go away, please go away, please go away_.

 

“Could I just… wait here for him?” The smile was back, and so were the chills running across Peter’s skin and crawling over the back of his neck.

 

“ _Ahhugh_ … n – no, he uh, he doesn’t let people in the house. You should go an – and come back.” Ronny nodded in understanding, although his smile dropped, and he pinched his lips together. Peter could tell the man’s desperation was festering.

 

“Okay, sounds good… so, uh, just go and come back, right?”

 

The teen blinked twice, his lashes bobbing up and down much like his head as he answered with a wordless nod. His hazel eyes caught the porch light and he looked so painfully oblivious and _trusting_ … Ronny couldn’t see himself walking away without a stack of bills in one hand, whether the boy handed it over willingly or not.

 

The man licked his lower lip, his teeth glinting as his tongue slithered back past his lips. There was a thick and heavy tension as he remained on the doorstep, the younger boy looking across at him with wide eyes.

 

Peter’s heart was pounding in his chest and all he wanted was for the man to walk away, back to his car, so that he could close the door and get someone to come over before Ronny realised Tony wasn’t coming back in an hour because he was in an entirely different state.

 

The man’s lips weren’t hanging in a toothy grin anymore, it was tilted lopsidedly into a heavy smirk. “Alright,” he drawled, his accent thick.

 

Peter couldn’t describe the relief as he realised Ronny was hopefully going to turn on his heel and leave the doorstep. He started closing the door almost as soon as the last syllable left the man’s lips.

 

“Great,” he said as a summation of the conversation, his shirt slipping off to one side as he reached out and began closing the door. The breeze from the sea hit his exposed collarbone but he couldn’t care less, soon enough that car and the man that came along with it would be out of the driveway and Peter wouldn’t feel like he was some PSA special on what to do when a stranger shows up on your doorstep at five in the evening.

 

Peter jolted as the door hit resistance without warning, a loud thud had his head snapping up from the floor as he saw Ronny’s demeanour had completely flipped. There was no smile on his face as his ossified hand smacked into the door, stopping him from closing it. There was a dark look of determination, no doubt driven by his utter desperation.

 

Peter let go of the door completely, turning away from it and yelping as he realised the man behind him was giving chase. The door slammed into the side table behind it, drowning out Peter’s shocked cry as his footfalls were joined by the heavy smacks of the man’s boots against the floorboards only inches away.

 

He barely made it two steps when hands were wrapping around his arms and his body was being grappled as he ran. He tried to slap one of the arms away, but Ronny was fully grown, and he only gripped tighter, another arm slung forward to encase the boy’s chest. 

 

Peter yelled, the breath screaming from his lungs as he realised Ronny had both arms completely wound around his chest. The man’s entire torso pressed into Peter’s back, throwing him forward at a dangerous velocity.

 

His terrified wail stretched out as Ronny threw himself and the smaller teen forward, their feet tangling as Peter’s head and ribcage slammed into the floor hard enough to force a pitiful wheezy groan out from his lips.

 

There was a sharp pain against his left ribs which cut through the hazed ache throughout his chest and lungs. The man dug a hand into Peter’s side, roughly hauling the boy from his chest onto his back.

 

Peter gasped, his body jerking in reaction to a heavy weight pressing down from above him. He peeled his eyes open with a pained gargle, watching as Ronny lifted himself overtop the younger boy, straddling his legs and subsequently pinning him against the hard wood as his fist raised above his head.

 

Peter had never been punched in the face before – not really. He had been shoved around at school by Flash, pushed into a locker or tripped up in class, but never had anyone truly held him down and rained blows into his face before.

 

He was completely unprepared as the fist connected with his cheek. He was stunned into silence as a raging crack of anguish throttled through him. He felt like his skull was crumpling inward, his skin splitting as more pain added to the cocktail of raw, flaming agony. He cried out again, weaker than when he had begun to run, more distressed, as if the pain had buried itself into his throat along with the hot and heavy copper which stung his lips and bled into his taste buds.

 

Another hit slammed down against his lower lip, separating the skin and leaving a bloody mess behind. A third blow crashed into his eye, leaving a throbbing ache behind which was so apparent, Peter almost thought he could feel his pulse in his eye socket. He squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of nausea wrenched his stomach and he gagged, thick and heavy like the blood which sprayed as knuckles met with his jawline.

 

He coughed, gargling on more tangy blood, leaving red stains across the wood beneath him, two lines of the crimson dripped out of the corner of his mouth to dribble across his cheek and down his neck. Peter could hear the grunting and short-winded panting from above him while Ronny continued to throw his fists down over the helpless teen.

 

“ _G – uuhhg, ah… ah ha ahh_!” There was blood roaring in Peter’s ears and his chest felt like it was about to implode as more and more pressure slammed down into his face. His hands were limp at his sides, his head thrown to the left each time a new blow knocked into him. There was blood sprayed across the floor – _his_ blood – and Peter was vaguely aware that the sounds he was choking out are noises he had never heard before.

 

He never knew being beaten could hurt this much. His skull felt like it was going to cave in from the pure agony, but he knew he had only been on the ground for less than a minute. He felt like he couldn’t pull in air, his waist and upper thighs were screaming from the weight of the man on top of him and blood pounded behind his eyelids.

 

Peter was gasping after each hit, his lungs begging for air and his bones pleading release from the pain. A choked-off whimper escaped between his pained grunts. Somewhere through his foggy, agony-soaked head, he felt nausea, hot and thick against his frantic gasping.

 

This couldn’t be happening to him, it _couldn’t_. His Dad had only pulled out of the driveway several hours ago, the man on top of him had only pounded on the door minutes ago, and now Peter found himself succumbing to the most excruciating pain he’s felt in his entire life.

 

And it occurs to the boy then, that as he’s being beaten within an inch of unconsciousness, one wrong hit and he could merely slip away. Harley could come home to find the front door still wide open with the bloody corpse of his younger brother laid across the floor. Tony could get back from his business trip and see his youngest son being wheeled out across the gravel in the driveway on a stretcher, tucked away into a black body bag.

 

But that’s not what happens, because eventually, one hit becomes the last hit. Peter tenses in accordance, waiting for the next collision of knuckles against flesh, but it never comes. Ronny’s heavy breathing stays the same, uneven and wild with adrenaline that comes from the power rush of pinning someone to the floor and bruising your own knuckles against their jaw.

 

Peter breaks the relative quiet with a cough. His throat bounces as his neck convulses while the last of his blood trickles from his lips to the floor. His eyes are shut, involuntary tears coat his lashes and cause them to stick together like dewy grass in the morning. Peter’s eyebrows are hunched in distress, his mouth peeled into a grimace which is mostly overshadowed by the amount of blood splatters across his light skin.

 

His cough dissolves into broken sobs as the weight of the man finally gave way while he climbed off the boy. A hand slaps Peter’s chest, the same way a father would encouragingly pat his child on the back after a baseball game. The teen still choked on fractured sobs, even as Ronny stood up and melted into the corners of Peter’s vision which were still black and murky. He hears the front door slamming shut.

 

Peter’s cries out as a fist tangled in his overgrown hair. His skull is lifted from the floor and then his back, his hair taking all the weight. He could hear his shoes scuffing against the floor as he’s dragged backwards by his hair, but the angle his head was tilted at sent a mouthful of blood down his throat, and for a moment, he was drowning.

 

“Keep crying, boy!” The man hollered, yanking at the hair follicles while Peter gagged as he suffocated in his own blood. “See what happens!”

 

The teen gargled helplessly, somehow finding the strength to reach up and grasp at the hand in his hair, his body jerking as he’s tugged out of the entrance way, down the hall and gracelessly dropped against the kitchen floor. His head smacks the tile and he quickly rolls his neck to the side and throws up all the blood and crusted chunks from where he bit the skin off the inside of his cheek and lips. 

 

There was a small, red puddle forming beside his cheek, and as Peter watched it spreading out across the white floor, he distantly became aware of Ronny dragging a chair across the floor beside his body. “Let’s go, boy,” he declared, reaching down, ignoring Peter’s violent flinch, and grabbing his shirt for leverage. “Get your ass up,” he grunted, tearing Peter off the ground and spinning him around to face him before roughly shoving him back downwards into a chair. His body immediately folds in on itself, Peter is far too consumed in the barely receding pain from Ronny’s beating that he can’t find the strength to support his own weight.

 

Ronny grips both of Peter’s shoulders and forces them against the back support of the chair. He pushes the boy’s chest until he stays upright on his own. With one final slap to the teen’s chest, the older man storms across the kitchen, ripping something out of the wall as Peter’s coughs up more blood now that he’s sitting upright.

 

The boy is breathing heavily, his chest expanding inwards and outwards at a speed teetering on the boarder of hyperventilation. Ronny doesn’t seem to pay any attention to Peter’s panic, he focuses on unwinding the power cord he just tore out of the wall.

 

Peter feels something cold, skinny and tight being thrown around his midsection, pinning one arm to his side, and the other between his legs in his lap. It pulls taught and makes the teen jerk in the chair, but the cord holds him in place, secured to the chair keeping him upright.

 

Ronny rips a dishcloth in half, dropping one to the floor and rounding on Peter with the other hanging from his fist.

 

Peter’s head is bowed, he’s staring directly into his lap, still heaving and trying to catch one steady breath in the midst of his panic. His hair dangles freely in front of his face, the light catching his brown locks until they almost look golden. Through his curls, he doesn’t see Ronny moving behind his chair, but he does feel as the cloth is lifted in front of his face and jerked backwards into his mouth. “Come here!” The man shouts gruffly, the force of his tugging wrenches Peter’s head backwards, his neck cracks painfully.

 

Peter wails through the gag, his panic spiking as he feels the power cable constricting him to the confines of the chair as the man roughly angles his head around like a doll’s. Ronny nudges the back of Peter’s neck, forcing his head forward, so he can trap the boy’s head against his hip with an elbow. The cries and hiccupping sobs grow tenfold as Peter struggles. “Come here,” Ronny repeats with more anger in his tone.

 

The boy’s legs kick out and he fights against the power cord. His panic grows to its highest point as his chest stutters and air stops flowing through to his lungs. Ronny completes the knot and tightens it harder than necessary, it catches in Peter’s long curls and he screams in pain.

 

The noise is loud enough to worry the man, and he is quick to shove the boy back against the chair. “Shut up!” He hisses, growing impatient as the cries continue. “Shut. Up.” He growls, deeper this time, more authority ringing clear in his voice as he slaps the teen beneath him, _hard_.

 

If anything, the slap pulls Peter even deeper into his panicked hysteria.

 

Ronny slams a hand over the gag pulled between the boy’s lips. “Shut the _fuck_ up, boy.” He leers over the teen, their faces only inches away. Peter’s eyes open in fright when the hand clamps down over his face, and he finds himself staring straight up into dark, cold blue eyes.

 

Stunningly, Peter finds himself nodding hurriedly, tears burning in his own eyes. It’s hard to breathe from the angle Ronny has his neck at. “Alright, Peter?” The man spits. The boy continues to nod, his heart thundering in his chest. He hiccups on a smaller, quieter sob, but it sets Ronny off again. “Peter!” He snaps angrily.

 

Peter moans, his eyes squeezing back shut in terror.

 

 _Please don’t hurt me anymore. Don’t hit me again. Let me out of the chair… please_.

 

Ronny’s face breaks into a wild grin. He shoves himself off Peter’s face, letting the boy suck in a huge breath of relief. “S’ real nice to meet you,” he enunciations with a toothy smile. The poor kid looked absolutely traumatised. His face is beginning to swell, it’s smeared with blood and his eyes are wide and shell-shocked. “You got a face like ten miles of bad road, you know that?” He stalks backward, leaning against the counter across from where Peter was secured in the chair.

 

He glanced at a card stuck to the fridge, the armed forces logo catching his eye. “Why’ve you got a military business card, Peter?” He looks over his shoulder at the boy. Peter was fidgeting in his place, twisting his neck and head around to try and dislodge the gag, but only succeeding in pulling more strands of his hair out as he did so. “Huh? Why is that?” He demanded, crossing the kitchen and standing before the boy again.

 

Peter’s chest was beginning to heave again, but Ronny couldn’t care any less. “Huh, what’s the plan here? What? I leave, you call your military friend. I come back, and they get me?! Huh? Is that it?!” Peter goes still, silent, his chest barely moving as he stares up at the man. The gag is already red from his bloody split lip, his shirt hangs loose from his shoulder, exposing a few scarlet hand marks fading into bruises.

 

Ronny narrowed his eyes, stepping forward slightly as he asked the most important question. “Is anybody else comin’?” Brown eyes darted up from the floor to meet his before flicking away again.

 

 _Harley, Harley, Harley. Harley’s coming, I’ll be okay_.

 

“I don’t think so,” the man thought aloud. “If there were, you probably would’a let me in… would’a let me stay.” Peter averts his eyes as much as possible, there is no way he’s letting the man think his older brother could become another victim. “Maybe,” Ronny murmurs. “Right, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that you and me are the only guests at this here party.”

 

 _Some fucking party. What’s the theme, kidnapping_? Peter thought bitterly.

 

“I don’t think you called anybody. I don’t think anybody else is comin’.” Ronny eyed the teen once more, surveying the way his stomach didn’t fully expand as he took a breath, because of the power cable, watching him wince each time he blinked his slowly swelling eye. “Now,” he began, “I’m gonna take that gag out’cha mouth –”

 

Peter looked up wearily, his teeth clenching down instinctively on the cloth shoved in his mouth.

 

“You’re gonna be perfectly quiet, alright?” Ronny approached the teen as one would approach a wounded animal, as if Peter could skitter off when he was scared, instead of struggle against the chair he was bound to. The man crouched in front of him, so that he could see the teen’s face through the dangling curls which had been blocking his view from above. “You’re gonna answer my questions at a reasonable volume and all,” he instructed.

 

His voice dropped lower, it was almost a whisper as he leaned in close enough for his breath to send Peter’s curls swaying from side to side. “Now, the moment you start screaming and yelling… I’m gonna hit you again.” The grin flowed back onto the man’s face, he looked almost excited, although Peter guessed that was the point, to make him believe the threat wouldn’t be a hassle to carry out. “And I’m gonna hit it hard. And I’m gonna hit it over and over again, till eventually, your body’s just gonna give up. It’s gonna get real hard to breathe, real hard to eat.” 

 

He tilted his chin up, looking at Peter menacingly through his curls. “But you’re probably gonna be dead soon, so none of that will matter.” The psychotic smile stretched back across his lips, scaring Peter to no end. “That don’t sound too good then, does it?” He stood once more, backing up and watching the boy’s eyes follow him around this time. “We good?” He asked implicitly.

 

Peter’s head nodded several times, timidly. His curls bounced as he did so, a few more falling into his face but not yet covering his wide, brown eyes. “No noise, right?” He smiled, knowing he had scared the boy into silence when he shook his head obediently. “Alright then,” he said quietly, moving around behind the chair and taking his time to undo the knot.

 

When he pulled the fabric out of the teen’s mouth, a few strings of bloody saliva followed, but Peter kept his mouth wide open like a trained animal. Not crying, not struggling, not making any noise whatsoever.

 

Ronny smiled proudly, stepping back to admire the compliant boy. Peter closed his lips, his tongue moving inside his mouth before he slowly leaned to one side, tilting his head and spitting a bloodied glob back into the puddle of drying crimson on the tile. “Jeez,” he exclaimed, “you’re bleedin’ inside and out, aren’t you?”

 

Peter straightened himself up in the chair, his curls still hanging loosely in front of his face. “Okay, first things first, where’s Tony?” The man asked curtly. Peter licks his cracked and split lips, exhaling softly before he answers.

 

“Business trip,” he says quietly. Ronny arches an eyebrow and nods.

 

“How long till he gets back?” He presses, watching Peter’s face fall.

 

“Three days,” the boy croaks out. Ronny laughs breathily, the noise loud in the silent kitchen.

 

“Three days,” he repeats, looking down at Peter. “You’re not having a very good week, are ya, buddy?” Ronny bends to pick up the other half of the cloth, wrapping it over his slightly bruised knuckles and sighing. “Okay, lemme explain what’s goin’ on here,” he said. “I’m in a bit of a bind, and I might need some cash… So, is there any cash in the house?” Peter takes a shaky breath, his mouth opening and closing a few times.

 

“I don’t think so… no. I – I don’t know.”

 

“Ah, anything valuable? Any… jewellery, or special watches?” Peter shakes his head, pulling his bottom lip inside his mouth and running his tongue along it gently. “Now, not that I don’t trust you, I’m just gonna take a look around myself, alright?” Ronny smiles again as he loops the power cable once more around Peter’s midsection and hands, making it slightly tighter, slightly harder to breathe right.

 

Peter didn’t move, he stayed placid, his face devoid of anything except despondent. Ronny crouched before him, exhaling on an even wider smile. “I am gonna have to gag ya again,” he admitted, reaching up to press the bloodied rag back between Peter’s lips. He leaned in closer than before, his face almost close enough to touch. Peter held his breath as the man tightened the gag again, holding back a wince as the curls at the nape of his neck were yanked painfully.

 

Ronny dragged his hands back from behind the teen’s head, his knuckles grazing over Peter’s cheeks. “S’ nothin’ personal,” he whispered. His hands flattened out, so his palms and fingers cupped the boy’s cheeks. He stood, pressing his forehead flush against Peter’s as he did. “It’s gonna be alright,” he murmured softly, his voice airy and non-threatening even as he brushed a few curls back off Peter’s face for him. “I’m gonna be right back,” he promised, the hand that finished tightening the gag dropped down to slap Peter’s knee in a mockery of a friendly gesture.

 

He pushed Peter’s head down, so he was facing his lap again, even more golden curls falling in front of his face. Ronny’s footsteps receded from the tiled kitchen, sinking much deeper into the house. “Don’t go anywhere, ya hear?” He laughed from another room, now fully out of range from where he had left Peter secured to the chair, gagged like a disobedient animal.

 

Peter took the chance to drop his shoulders, slumping further in the chair, letting the power cord take all his weight as he stared at the ever-spreading pool of blood beneath him, stark against the white tile.

 

He let out a gentle, hopeless sob, his eyes shutting once more. He could feel small bubbles popping around the cloth as he cried softly. With Peter’s attacker busy ransacking his home for valuables, and nobody else around to hear the boy cry – did he even make a sound?


	2. 7383

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is inspired by a few scenes from the movie 'Two Step' - it's awesome, check it out!
> 
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> Anyone else who has any ideas or questions - please just go ahead and ask me! You can message me on Tumblr, (Agib-2002) you can leave an anon ask if you're shy, <3 or just leave them in the comments on one of my fics!
> 
> <3 Leave a comment, I hope you enjoy!

Thirty minutes and counting. _Thirty. Entire. Minutes_ this asshole had been pawing through his home, opening cabinets, rifling through his brother’s old room, his father’s private workshop. Peter sat motionless, the blood across his cheek and chin was drying in place uncomfortably, and he kept opening and closing his lips around the gag, trying to starve off the feeling of his split lip solidifying against the fabric.

 

His eye was beginning to throb more and more, Peter figured it would begin to swell up soon enough, but he wasn’t focused on it. Distantly, he could hear Ronny’s feet coming up from downstairs where his Dad’s workshop was. He looked straight ahead, staring at a spot of grime beneath the counter edge.

 

From the corner of his eyeline, he could see the lanky figure walking past the doorframe and smiling widely again.

 

“Well, you were right… s’ all pretty much junk in here,” the man drawled. Peter stayed still as he felt the air shifting when Ronny passed him, something clinked against the countertop and he couldn’t help but flick his eyes up toward the sound. “I do dig this thing though, so I’m gonna keep it, if that’s cool.”

 

The man had set down a roll of silver tape and something else which made Peter finally feel something other than defeated. 

 

Tony’s first reactor.

 

_Proof That Tony Stark Has A Heart ___

__

__“Looks like I could probably strip some of those wires, make a bit of cash.” Ronny smiled as he tilted the object back and forth, running his fingers over the copper wiring and nodding appreciatively before setting it back down against the counter._ _

__

__Peter tilted his neck back, turning his chin away as Ronny leaned down in front of him. His hands stretched out and for a moment, Peter’s heart began hammering. _Too close, too close. Get away from me. Get away_. Then Ronny’s palm flattened, and Peter let out a small, breathy exhale as he realised he was being pat down and nothing more._ _

__

__His fingers twitched on their own accord at his sides, his teeth grating together behind the gag as Ronny’s fingers squeezed over the lump in his pocket – the wallet with the card his father had left him. “Let’s see here,” the man murmured, to himself more than anything. “Alright,” he whispered, digging his fingers into Peter’s pocket and twisting the wallet until it slipped out of the teen’s pants and allowed Ronny to step back with an even wider grin._ _

__

__He casually flipped open the wallet, flicking through the various pockets until he got to the silver card with Tony’s name on it. Peter inhaled sharply and shut his eyes when the man carelessly threw his wallet aside without care, turning the card around his hand and lowering himself closer to eye level. “Now, Peter… you remember that conversation we had, ‘bout me hittin’ your face in?”_ _

__

__He arched an eyebrow as Peter exhaled and looked down, avoiding eye contact. “We don’t have to have that about this card, do we?” The teen’s lip quivered before he bit down on his tongue, tasting the small remains of blood that still lingered in the fabric of the gag._ _

__

__He watched the boy intently for a moment, hearing the small noises as he inhaled and exhaled through his nose, his entire torso vibrating with tiny tremors as he tensed himself. “Okay now you’re gonna tell me a pin,” he instructed sharply. “I could hurt you until you tell me, or you could give me the wrong number and I’ll hurt you again…” His voice was low, dangerous, completely ill-fitting with the grin still on his face. “But if you just give me that pin, we’ll be _all done_.” Peter said nothing, waiting in quiet anticipation for whatever would happen next._ _

__

__Ronny paid no attention, merely muttering a soft, “okay?” Before reaching up and hooking a finger beneath the inside of the gag, a few inches away from Peter’s lips._ _

__

__Instinctively, the teen bit down on the cloth, not wanting to be expected to speak anytime soon. He _couldn’t_ come up with a way around this. He would either be exposing his father’s money or getting hurt again._ _

__

__Ronny’s smile faded as a second finger looped around the cloth and forced the fabric from Peter’s teeth and lips. He stood, ignoring the heavy breaths Peter was taking, the way he squeezed his eyes shut and tugged against the power cable before slumping in defeat. “So, what is it?” He asked curtly, looking down at the boy who flinched at his tone of voice._ _

__

__He kept his lips parted, licking the split skin and wincing, but still not answering. “You’re not talkin’?” Ronny pressed, looking to the side and sighing through a forced smile. “Why you makin’ me do this, Pete, _huh_?” The man held out his finger, waving it before Peter’s face. “I’m gonna give you one more chance,” he warned, as if Peter was a petulant toddler refusing to crawl into bed at an acceptable hour._ _

__

__Peter didn’t make a noise. He looked at the floor and ignored the finger in his face, ignored the warning he was given._ _

__

__Ronny ground his teeth together dangerously. “No?!” He asked angrily, glaring down at Peter with a heat the boy wasn’t expecting._ _

__

___Pain_. In his chest, his ribcage, in the air that was forced from his lungs._ _

__

__Peter gagged, hard and thick as the fist collided with his stomach._ _

__

__“ _Ahh_ ,” he yelped. Tears threatened his façade when he felt them burn behind his eyelids while he leant forward in his chair, heaving on air that didn’t reach his lungs. He wheezed, wishing this was just another playground incident which ended with his brother hurriedly pushing his inhaler into his hands and rubbing his back while a teacher called their father worriedly._ _

__

__But it wasn’t._ _

__

__“You remember now, Peter? _Hm_?!” The teen kept his eyes closed, forcing the burning sensation to flood away from his eyes by focusing on the uneven rise and fall of his chest as he recovered from the hit._ _

__

__Something wrenched the back of his head, forcing his face upward. There were nails in the back of his scalp and another patch of hair being tugged. “Tell me the goddamn pin!” The man hollered, his fingers tightening as Peter’s neck was forced backward, his eyes peeling open to stare right up at him._ _

__

__“Seven-three-eight-three,” he gasped hurriedly._ _

__

__“You sure?” Ronny demanded, his hand slipping forward to grip a section of hair at the front of the boy’s head. He loosened his hold minutely to allow the teen to nod weakly, his eyes slipping back closed as his head was shoved downward again. “Alright,” Ronny said, a pleased look on his face as Peter struggled to catch his breath for the third time. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He laughed._ _

__

__He swung the roll of tape around his finger, murmuring the pin a few times until he was done waiting for the teen to collect himself._ _

__

__A single nail pressed against the sensitive skin beneath Peter’s chin, tilting his head upwards. “What’s it mean?” Ronny asked quietly, forcing the eye contact. The boy opened and closed his lips a few times, not knowing what to say before whispering his answer softly._ _

__

__“Pete,” he choked out, hiding his face behind the loose curls as soon as Ronny moved his finger away._ _

__

__7 – P, 3 – E, 8 – T, 3 – E. _Pete_._ _

__

__“That’s nice,” he sneered, watching the roll of tape and picking along it until he found the start. “I might just have to borrow that card for a bit,” he smirked, ripping the tape and grinning as Peter leaned away from him. “Ah, ah,” he tutted, “now, you’re gonna have to stay real still for me, alright?”_ _

__

__Peter felt the wood of the chair digging into his spine as the first strip of tape pressed firmly against his chest. Ronny smelled like sweat as he lifted his arm to pull the tape across the back of the chair. He kept the roll going in one, long, continuous line of tape as he wrapped it around the surprisingly small torso._ _

__

__Peter winced as Ronny tore the tape from the roll then pressed his palms flat against the mound of duct tape keeping his torso pinned firmly against the back of the chair. “C’mere,” Ronny muttered, picking up Peter’s hands by his wrists, laying them over his lap and slapping another line of tape straight over them before he could move._ _

__

__Peter swallowed, squirming in the chair before realising he had no room left to move. His arms were secured to his lap, a mound of tape stretched across from his wrists to his elbows, covering the base of the chair’s seat as it went. His chest was in the same position, not to mention the fact that Ronny was busy securing his shins to the chair legs in a similar fashion before the cloth was pressed back between his lips and the front door was swinging closed._ _

__

__The nearest gas station was a ten-minute drive down the road, and there was an ATM machine sat outside of it._ _

__

__Peter had another twenty odd minutes to wait, or maybe the man would just take the money from his father’s account and leave Peter in the chair until someone found him. But there was always the possibility the man would come back with the cash, just to kill him off, to keep him quiet…_ _

__

__The teen shuddered at the thought, wincing again as the tape restricted the expanse of his chest._ _

__

__The sun was slowly setting. The light filtering in through the window wasn’t enough to give Peter’s curls the golden tint anymore. In fact, it wasn’t even enough to keep the room lit. Shadows were long, they cast shapes against the tile floor and the white walls. Peter could hear the birds beginning to quiet down as the buzz of crickets began seeping in, along with the soft glow of the moon._ _

__

__He kept his head down, hair dangling in his face made no difference when he could barely see out of one eye now that the swelling had begun._ _

__

__The young teen jolted as much as he could from beneath the tape as a shrill ringing filled the kitchen. He made a small noise beneath the gag, his head tilting upwards slightly._ _

__

__“ _Mmph_?” He groaned, squeezing his good eye shut as the ringing pierced his throbbing skull uncomfortably._ _

__

__There was a beep and then a beat of silence before the kitchen filled with the best sound Peter could have imagined._ _

__

__“ _Heeey_ Pete! It’s Harls, hope you’re doin’ okay on your own, you little shit.” There was a soft laugh from the receiver and Peter smiled beneath the gag, rolling his eyes at Harley’s fond but mildly insulting nickname. He winced immediately after, his split lip didn’t agree with the smile and his swollen eye didn’t like the eye roll either. “Anyway, I just checked in at the airport… my flight doesn’t start boarding for another hour or two, so I’m bored out of my mind. Hopefully I’ll show up tomorrow morning sometime.”_ _

__

__Peter squirmed in place, wishing Ronny hadn’t been cautious enough to wrap him up with an entire roll of duct tape. “Okay, stay outta trouble till I get there. Love ya, Pete, bye.”_ _

__

__The boy practically whined high in his throat, wishing his older brother could have stayed on the line, to keep the fear pushed to the back of Peter’s head._ _

__

__“ _Mmgh_!” He grunted, leaning as far forward as he could. He groaned, biting down on the gag harshly and tilting to the side. The chair shifted slightly, the two legs on the left-hand side lifted off the ground for a moment. It was enough to encourage Peter, and he angled his body to the right once more, with slightly more force._ _

__

__The chair legs lifted further off the ground, his body weight throwing the seat off balance and sending him too far to the right. “ _Mmph_! _Mnngg – h – hh_!” The chair tilted dangerously, and Peter felt himself falling. He didn’t even have enough time to tense before his right side slammed into the tile, his temple hitting the floor with a dull thud._ _

__

__He cried out, almost biting through his own cheek. His hair hung in his eyes, a painful throbbing started up in his skull on the opposite side to his bad eye. He tasted more blood around the gag and he bit down hard to stifle more heavy breathing._ _

__

__Somewhere, a door closed, footsteps bounced off the floor rhythmically and Peter kept his eyes squeezed shut as Ronny walked into the kitchen doorway._ _

__

__“Jesus, Pete. You scared me there for a minute,” he laughed, shaking his head and approaching the boy on his side, still attached to the chair by the tape._ _

__

__Peter winced, groaning and hissing quietly as the chair was lifted from the ground and he was angled upright. His head lolled to the side until he was righted, his teeth squeezing down on the gag so hard he thought his teeth might crack._ _

__

__Ronny moved the chair back slightly, his fingers too close to Peter’s shoulders for his liking. “That better?” He asked mockingly, straightening up as Peter regained his senses. “ _Huh_? It looks more comfortable. I’m sorry ‘bout that.”_ _

__

__Peter bent his neck, letting his hair dangle in front of his face again, keeping Ronny’s persistent and unnerving grin hidden. “Okay Pete, there’s good news and there’s bad news.” He paused, pacing slowly in front of the teen. “The bad news is, you got a thousand dollar a day limit on your ATM account. So, I was only able to take out a thousand bucks, which sucks.” He looked across at the teen, his grin widening, “however, the good news is… you got thirty thousand dollars on that card there! Did you even know that?”_ _

__

__Peter’s head lifted slightly, a stray curl shifting enough that one of his eyes peeked out and glared up at Ronny, who was unfolding a receipt. “I’ve never even seen an ATM receipt like this before! How the _fuck_ did you end up with thirty thousand dollars in your account?”_ _

__

___So, that was how much Tony loaded onto the ‘emergency’ cards_._ _

__

__There was a muffled reply from beneath the gag, Peter’s head was lifted now. “Huh?” Ronny pressed, hooking a finger under the gag and tugging it down from the boy’s lips. He grunted as the scab from his split lip reopened, but he licked his lips and repeated his answer._ _

__

__“My Dad,” he croaked, dropping his head back down as soon as he had answered. Ronny took that as his cue, he reached back up and pushed the gag back into Peter’s mouth, nodding happily when the boy didn’t put up much of a fight._ _

__

__“So,” Ronny started. “Option number one is pretty basic… s’ gonna take some time, but I could stay with you for awhile and take out a couple hundred each day until I got what I need.” He watched Peter’s non-swollen eye following him as he continued pacing. “But uh, I don’t know I… I don’t think that’s going to be too much fun for either of us.”_ _

__

___No shit_ Peter thought acidly._ _

__

__Ronny moved before the teen, not crouching down, just hovering above. “Unless you could figure out how to get me a nice chunk of that money, and I split, you get untied, everything goes back to normal.”_ _

__

___Aside from the bruises and likely concussion I have, the reactor you’re stealing, the money you’ll take with you and the lingering trauma you’ve no doubt caused _Peter thought to himself, wishing he could spit at the man.__ _ _

____ _ _

____“You know… we just – we just gotta figure out a way to do that,” Ronny pointed out. He threw his hands lazily, letting them come down to brush past his jeans in resignation. He sighed loudly, listening to all the silence Peter was offering up. He leaned against the benchtop and crossed his legs together at the ankles._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Peter expected more monologing, perhaps another round of threats, but Ronny only began walking forward to slap Peter on the back of his shoulder in a mockery of friendliness. “Why don’t we sleep on it?” He suggested, making his way down the hall, no doubt readying himself to crash in the master bedroom – _Tony’s bedroom_ – with Peter left in the kitchen now bathed in darkness for the night._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____\----_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____It took _hours_ for Peter to fall into a steady sleep. His shoulders burnt, his chest ached from the duct tape, his legs were going numb and his neck felt like it was about to stiffen into brick. His lips were dry and cracked, his eye completely swollen shut and the blood had crusted over his skin like chalky paint chips. His throat was dry and alight with the tangy aftertaste of copper._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Vaguely, he swam to consciousness when he heard Ronny helping himself to a long, hot shower in his father’s bathroom._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Hot streams of sunlight filtered in through the window and began lighting the dangling curls in front of Peter’s eyes. He didn’t move, barley blinked, he listened to the birds and ignored the pain and aches raging throughout his body._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Ronny was in the same clothing as the day before, he looked clean, warm, satisfied and pleased with himself as he stepped into the kitchen._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____His brows furrowed as he kneeled in front of Peter. A hand pushed his loose curls back, he winced as dried blood clots in his hair tugged uncomfortably._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____“Well,” he began with a soft laugh. “You’re not lookin’ so great, are you buddy?” He pulled his hand away and stood, thinking for a moment before speaking. “Let me uh, let me get you some water.”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Peters hair fell back in front of his face as the hand was removed. It was long, so much longer than usual. He hated feeling the similarity between Ronny’s hand pushing it back and the way he remembered Tony used to card his fingers through the messy curls with care._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Peter heard water filling in a glass before he felt a hand pushing his hair back once more. “There ya go,” Ronny said, Peter felt like a handfed animal. “Ah, shit,” Ronny mumbled as he lowered the glass, remembering the gag still pressed between the boy’s lips._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____The gag fell away after one tug and Ronny pushed the glass against Peter’s mouth, tilting it upwards and letting him greedily take advantage of the fluids he so desperately needed. “Drink up,” he encouraged. “ _There_ ya go! Ain’t givin’ up on me now, buddy,” he laughed as Peter followed the glass, gulping as much of the water down as possible._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Water spilled from the rim of the glass and Ronny finally pulled away, hearing Peter swallow before gasping for air, leaning forward as if he needed more._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Ronny was rummaging around with the food on the bench, he stuck his hand in a packet of bread before pushing it in Peter’s general direction. “Here, eat this,” he said quickly, barely giving the boy time to eat as he pressed the slice of bread against his mouth and expected Peter to chew._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____The bread fell into Peter’s lap and Ronny grumbled as he pushed a piece of the crust back into his mouth. He sat before the boy, watching his chew slowly as he stared into his lap despairingly. “Now, I’m gonna head out and handle some business. Uh, when I come back… let’s really put our heads together and come up with a plan, alright?”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Ronny stood, patting Peter’s shoulder once before switching off the lights and walking out the front door, once again leaving Peter tied in the chair to wait for whatever happened next._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____\----_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Harley sighed heavily. They forgot his stupid pickles again._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____“The pickles?” Tony asked, his voice slightly staticky over the phone line._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____“Yep. It’s always the pickles, Dad,” Harley complained. He took a swig of his drink and set it back down in his rental car’s cup holder._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____“That’s why you don’t rely on fast-food buddy,” Tony lectured with a small huff of laughter. Harley rolled his eyes and took a bite out of the burger anyway._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____“You know,” he began through his mouthful. “I’m only a forty-five-minute drive from home, so I probably could have convinced Pete over the phone to send one of those eighty-dollar gourmet pizzas delivered out to me… with your credit card.” Tony scoffed over the phone, Harley smirked as he took a handful of fries for himself and watched the cars zooming past the lookout he was currently pulled over at._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____“Yeah well at least the eighty-dollar pizza probably wouldn’t stink up your rental car like you are now, with all that burger crap.” Harley barked out a laugh at his father’s comment._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____“ _Puh-lease_ ,” he annunciate loudly. “The first thing you did before you shut down the weapons division was force Happy to get you burgers! You have no high-ground to stand on, old man.” Harley heard Tony gasp mockingly over the phone._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____“I feel attacked,” he said flatly, making Harley grin through his next mouthful of burger and fries. “You’re such a snarky little monster, aren’t you?” There was humour in Tony’s voice, and Harley smiled wider as he finished off the last of his drink and wiped his fingers on the napkin at the bottom of the fast food bag._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____“ _Mhmm_ ,” Harley confirmed with a little smirk as he put his father on speaker and turned on the engine. “When are you getting back again, Dad?” He pulled away from the small lookout and got back onto the main highway taking him in the general direction of the house._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____“Uh, probably late tomorrow night? Possibly even early morning if the flight gets delayed.” Tony answered. Harley nodded and thrummed his thumbs against the steering wheel. “Oh – okay, kid my meeting is starting now. Give Pete a call, tell him I’ll call after my meeting and that he better be keeping out of trouble. Thanks, Harl, love you and your brother, drive safe.”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____“Will do, Dad. Love ya too! Enjoy that meeting, it sounds riveting,” Harley blurted sarcastically. He earned a dry laugh from Tony before the line clicked off and his music resumed._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____The rental car smelled like waxy crayons, Harley wrinkled his nose and rolled down his window. He told himself opening a window was because of the new car smell, and not because Tony had told him the burgers stunk out the car._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____He sighed, nodding his head slowly, partly out of boredom and partly from the beat of the music. The drive wasn’t too long, although it was a pretty boring stretch of road._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____When the road turned to gravel and Harley felt the rental car stuttering as it climbed up the hill, he smiled widely. He could get home, ruffle his younger brother’s hair and tease him relentlessly before falling asleep in his old bed._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____When the hill evened out and Harley reached the driveway, he tilted his head in confusion. “So, Pete’s driving now?” He muttered to himself as he saw the cheap, beaten up car in the drive which definitely wasn’t his father’s._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Harley sighed and turned off the engine, taking a breath and smelling the familiar tang of salt in the air rising from the ocean beneath the cliff face._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____When he put his foot on the driveway gravel, he opened his mouth. There was a cigarette butt on the ground, stomped out and staining some of the pebbles with ash. It was… odd. Tony didn’t smoke, Peter had asthma, so it was out of the question._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____He shrugged, not devoting much thought to one used cigarette. The front door was cracked open slightly, and Harley frowned even more. “Peter?” He asked, pushing the door open with one knuckle. “You here? Pete?” He repeated, pushing it open completely. The hallway was empty, the phone they never really used was off the hook. “Are you here, Pete?” He tried again._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Harley wandered down the hall, not bothering to wait in the entrance room for Peter to bound into his arms like an excitable little kid, like he once was. He rounded the corner, expecting to find the kitchen as blank as everywhere else, perhaps with an empty pizza box, or Thai from Peter’s favourite restaura –_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____“Holy shit!” Harley gaped, seeing the bloody mess wrapped in grey tape that was his younger brother._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Peter was strapped to a kitchen chair, his head hung and his easily recognisable brown curls hanging over his face. Harley could see the bruising across the left side of his face, the swollen eye and split lips, the way Peter blinked dazedly as if Harley’s outburst had woken him. His eyes were glassy, and confusion swum in them clearly._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Harley moved forward into the room fully, immediately crouching in front of the chair. “What the hell happened to you, Pete?” He demanded frantically, his heart pounding in his throat and his temples throbbing angrily as he reached up and cupped the least damaged portion of his brother’s face. He let out a breath, his lips parted as his other hand shakily lifted, moving to pull the gag away._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Peter looked up, his eyes widening suddenly. Harley faltered, worrying he had scared his brother. “Pe –”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____He was cut off abruptly when three things happened at once. Peter let out a muffled sound from beneath the cloth, heavy footsteps that had aligned with the sensation of Harley’s thumping heart stopped directly beside him, and something hard slammed against the base of his skull._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Everything went dark as the tiled floor rose to meet him._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____\----_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____There was so much blood. Too much blood. Peter knew head wounds bled more than others… but he couldn’t stop staring at the slowly reddening tiles and thinking Harley might not wake up from that hit._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____He dragged his eyes away from his brother, glaring at the lanky man pacing before him._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____“Who is this guy? _Huh_?!” Ronny yells, roughly reaching out and yanking the cloth from Peter’s mouth before connecting his palm against the boy’s cheek with a heavy crack. “Who is that?!” He screamed again, growing more furious the longer Peter stared down at the tiles, frowning darkly._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Ronny looked down at Harley and rubbed the bridge of his own nose worriedly. “Shit,” he murmured, sitting down and leaning against the cabinet. “Whoever he is, he ain’t gonna be for very long.”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Peter scowled, biting his tongue harshly. Ronny was breathing heavily, shaking his head and staring out at the skyline. “You’re just gonna have to wait. I’m going out for a drink, I can’t stand to be in this house anymore.”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____The gag was back between Peter’s teeth and Ronny’s car was out of the driveway before the teen could protest._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____“ _’rl_? _‘rly_?” Peter tried, squirming in the chair. “ _H’rl_?!”_ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 <3 <3
> 
> I have a Tumblr! ~ It's agib_2002 ~
> 
> I post on there - it's all Marvel (especially irondad)
> 
> And an Instagram (I don't use it much but it's there for anyone who likes the occasional post or if anyone prefers Instagram over Tumblr!)  
> ~ It's also agib_2002 ~ Please give me a follow if you're interested <3
> 
> A few people have commented and mentioned that they've read more than just one of my fics and enjoyed them, so, if anybody wants to, I'd be really happy responding to asks and getting prompts to write if you leave them on Tumblr, or Instagram.
> 
> So... yeah, leave an ask/suggestion if you want me to read and respond to it (or even just ask any questions you're curious about me or my writing or anything really).
> 
> I'd honestly be happy talking about anything if anyone messaged me, so feel free to hit the asks/submissions/messages if you wanted to say anything at all.
> 
> <3


	3. Multi-tool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is inspired by a few scenes from the movie 'Two Step' - it's awesome, check it out!
> 
>  
> 
> \----
> 
>  
> 
> Anyone else who has any ideas or questions - please just go ahead and ask me! You can message me on Tumblr, (Agib-2002) you can leave an anon ask if you're shy, <3 or just leave them in the comments on one of my fics!
> 
> <3 Leave a comment, I hope you enjoy!

Peter ignored the blood. _There was too much_ , he ignored it.

 

“ _H’rly_?” He choked. “ _H’rly_!”

 

He could see the slow rise and fall of his brother’s chest, but that didn’t necessarily mean Harley would be okay, he needed medical attention, more than even Peter did.

 

Peter could make out a small, rectangular lump in Harley’s pocket. He craned his neck, hope bubbling up in his throat. Harley was the type of kid to always keep something useful on him, and in this case, it was the small engraved multi-tool Tony had gotten him for his sixteenth a few years back.

 

Peter felt the legs of the chair he was still taped to scraping against the tiles. He jerked his weight to the right and braced himself as he swung down to hit the floor hard. He grunted, looking up to see if the noise had roused his brother. “ _H’rly_?” He tried again, waiting for a response that didn’t come. _How hard had he been hit_?

 

Peter could feel the blood slicking the tiles congealing in his hair, knotting it up into a sticky, bloody mess while he shuffled as close as he could to Harley. He whimpered quietly when he saw the gash against the crown of his brother’s head. He would need stitches. _At least the bleeding had stopped though_.

 

Peter experimentally stretched out his hands, his fingertips just brushing the seam of Harley’s pocket. He grunted through the gag, shuffling a hair closer in hopes of reaching something which could get him out of the damned chair.

 

He slipped a finger into Harley’s pocket. He felt the brush of a leather wallet against his fingertips, then the smooth surface of metal. He groaned, straining himself viscously in order to get a solid grip on the multi-tool pocketknife. Peter’s eyes flickered back to Harley’s chest, he shuffled even closer, his head practically resting on his brother’s ribcage as he slowly used two fingernails to drag the knife from his pocket. _Mgghm_! The knife slipped, the weight falling from Peter’s fingers and clattering against the bloodied tiles.

 

He exhaled through his nose, his head dropping against Harley’s torso in defeat. He groaned, tilting his head further downward so his forehead rested just above Harley’s heartbeat. Slowly, he began to stretch again, his fingers only inches away from the blade. He huffed through the gag, grating his teeth against the scratchy fabric as he finally managed to get a solid grip on the handle.

 

\----

 

“ _Ahh uhhghh, hhng…_ ” 

 

The first thing Harley registered was the sharp, piercing pain that coursed through his skull. “Ughh, ah, ow… shit.” He moaned; his hands felt like bricks as he lifted them up to gingerly probe at the back of his head. He felt a clotted mess of blood, his hair stuck down over the wound where the pain radiated from.

 

His entire skull vibrated with an unrelenting ache. There was a warmth against his scalp, however, so that was nice. He could feel fabric shifting over his head.

 

“Harley?” Someone mumbled from above him. He looked up, meeting wide brown eyes. “Oh my god, thank fuck!” Harley grunted as Peter leaned down to pull him into a hug, his arms looping around his neck as his face buried deep into the crook of Harley’s neck. “I didn’t know if you… I – I just, there was so much blood and you weren’t responding to anything and I thought… I thought –” Peter’s breath hitched, and his voice wobbled dangerously.

 

“I’m sorry,” Harley managed, lifting up an arm to wrap it around Peter’s shoulders. The positioning was awkward, but the more comfort he could provide, the better.

 

He was splayed out across the three-seater couch in their living room, there were bloodstains that looked like they had been smeared from the kitchen across the creamy carpet. Peter’s hands, hair and shoulder were covered in Harley’s blood. A multi-tool sat on the coffee table, it’s dark brown handle coated in dried blood.

 

One side of Peter’s face was swollen and crusted with older blood. His lip was split, his hair hung low beneath his ears and the black eye was almost closed. “What h –”

 

Peter shook his head quickly from where it was still rested against Harley’s shoulder blade. “I know,” Harley mumbled, “but I have to know what happened.”

 

“I don’t know, _I don’t know_ ,” Peter panicked. “He just, I don’t… Dad left, then there was this guy on the answering machine, then he was at the door…” Peter took a breath, his shoulders shook. “I didn’t know what to do,” he choked out.

 

“Is he gone?” Harley asked seriously, pulling back from the hug to crane his neck. “How did you –”

 

“He’s coming back, and I used your pocketknife.” Peter answered quickly. Harley could see the red irritation marks across his wrists from the tape. “I don’t know when, probably soon,” Peter whispered, his fingers picking at his cuticles anxiously.

 

“I’m calling Dad,” Harley said firmly.

 

“No! No, no – don’t, Harley _please_.” Peter begged, straightening up and rushing around the side of the couch to where Harley was attempting to sit up. “He said he wanted Tony – he was coming here for Dad! If he doesn’t give a shit about hurting us, what’s stopping him from hurting Dad? Please, please can we just… just wait until we can get the cops here, I don’t want Dad getting hurt.”

 

“I… he said he was here for Dad?” Harley asked apprehensively, looking up at Peter with worry gleaming in his eyes.

 

“Yeah, he left the message f – for Dad, he asked for Tony… he wanted to come inside and wait for him. He s – said he needed money.” Peter took a shuddery breath, his fingers reaching out to grip Harley’s wrist as he once again tried to stand up from the plush couch. “He said Dad had wired him money a month ago, and now he wants more.”

 

“Dad wouldn’t wire someone money if they were the type of person to hurt someone like this,” Harley argued, reaching up and hovering two fingers over the bruised mess of Peter’s face. His younger brother batted the fingers away gently.

 

“Yeah, well he’s gonna come back and hurt us more eventually,” he murmured. “I don’t want him to hurt Dad too,” he admitted.

 

“Look, we’ll call the cops now and then we ca –” Harley was interrupted by the sound of tires rolling over the gravel in their driveway. Peter whimpered quietly and grabbed Harley’s hand with a vice grip.

 

“He’s back,” Peter hiccupped. “Harley.”

 

The front door slammed, the smell of cigarettes and nicotine made Harley wince, Peter squeezed his eyes shut and let a tear slip out across his cheek. Harley frowned, he gently lowered Peter down against the cushions of the couch as he forced himself onto his feet. “Shh, _shh_ , please,” Peter begged. Harley picked the pocket knife up from the table, wrinkling his nose as semi-dried blood oozed across his palm.

 

The front door slammed, Peter jerked to his feet and rushed past the living room doorway and pushed Harley back against the opposite wall. “He’s gonna _hurt_ you,” he hissed under his breath. His smaller hand curled around Harley’s and tugged the knife away. The two of them could hear the click of plastic as Ronny took Peter’s card back out of the discarded wallet in the kitchen.

 

Peter was shaking, Harley could feel every individual tremor. _What the hell had this guy done to get his brother this terrified_?

 

“Pete?” Ronny called from the kitchen. _So, he’d seen the blood stains leading to the kitchen then_. Harley’s lip peeled back into a snarl and his eyebrows lowered darkly. “You’re playing a risky game, boy.”

 

Peter’s hand tightened over the knife as the squeak of shoes on tiles and squelch of blood seeping into carpet echoed menacingly. He could see the man’s shadow, and there was roughly eight seconds before he’d be able to see Peter and Harley from around the corner.

 

Harley fisted a hand in the back of Peter’s shirt, tugging him closer. Peter’s back pressed against his brother’s torso, the knife shaking in his unsteady fingers as Harley held his breath, eyes trained on the slowly approaching shadow.

 

When Ronny finally crossed the doorframe, he was only inches away from the two boys. His and Peter’s eyes met, and there was nothing but desperation and aggression that shone back at Peter. The man surged forward, his teeth bared as Harley threw an arm over Peter’s chest and wished he could sink back into the wall. Peter closed his eyes, crying out softly as the smell of smoke hit his nose with vengeance.

 

There was a rough jerk, a gasp muffled by Peter’s exhale and Harley’s grunt as he was pressed back against the wall. A weight rested against Peter’s chest and he pulled away from it, the knife clattering to the floor. Ronny’s eyes were wide, his lips parted slightly as Harley tugged Peter to the side and pulled him into his chest, his eyes buried away against his neck.

 

Harley watched as Ronny stumbled back with a wet gargle. A hand was pressed tight against his upper abdomen, a few inches below his heart. “ _Uh – ugh…_ ”

 

“Oh my god, o – oh my god,” Peter wailed. His arms wrapped around Harley’s shoulders as his entire frame began to shake with heaving sobs. He could no doubt hear the sounds of the man collapsing over the carpet behind him. “H – Harley, Harley!” He cried, his knees giving in as he finally turned around despite the hand trying to keep him facing away.

 

“Don’t,” Harley pressed, tugging Peter back to his feet as a bead of blood rolled down Ronny’s cheek and he finally went still. “Outside, we’re going outside,” he urged.

 

“I – I _killed_ him, I killed him, Harley…”

 

“It was self-defence,” Harley mumbled, helping Peter limp out into the driveway. “And to be fair, he ran into the knife.” Peter choked out a laugh, tears dripping down his cheeks as he finally crumpled into a mess of tears and snivels. “My phone’s in the car,” he said gently, leading Peter to the backseat and making sure he wasn’t going to hyperventilate and pass out.

 

He shakily dialled emergency services and gave a brief synopsis of what had happened, he was told an ambulance and cop cars had been dispatched. They’d be at the address in eleven minutes. He thanked the operator, hung up and kneeled down in the gravel to try and soothe his currently panicking brother.

 

“They’re gonna arrest me,” Peter said brokenly. “I killed someone, I _stabbed_ him.”

 

“It was self-defence, Peter,” he repeated calmly. “You’ll be okay. There’s security audio, an eyewitness, plenty of evidence – plus, I don’t think Dad’s lawyer will have any issues covering this case. Easy win for him.” Harley smiled lopsidedly, but his eyes said concern.

 

“I just, h – he… and I –” Peter whined, his hand shot out to grip Harley’s upper arm, his nails dug in tightly. “I – I… ‘nhal’r. H’rl…”

 

“Shit, yeah. Yeah, okay,” Harley breathed. He fumbled to his feet and opened the glove box in the front seat. “Okay, Pete you gotta try and calm down,” he coached, yanking the inhaler out from beneath a bag of spare change. “Here, hey,” he pushed the inhaler into his brother’s hand, touching his knee and squeezing his spare hand gently. Peter pressed down and gasped as his chest constricted. “There you go,” Harley mumbled, “don’t panic. Just breathe.”

 

“S’rry,” Peter coughed. Harley rubbed his shoulder in small circles. In the distance he could hear sirens. It took two minutes to drive up the hill to get to the house. “Come with me,” Peter wheezed, “if – if they arrest me.”

 

“They aren’t going to arrest you,” Harley said sternly. “They’re gonna get us medical attention and mark the area as a crime scene.” Peter watched the flashes of the sirens as they climbed up the hill, some of the lights reflected in his brother’s eyes.

 

The familiar crunching of gravel encouraged Peter to snap his head up, his white-knuckled grip tightened over the inhaler. “You’re okay, they’re here to help,” Harley assured him.

 

The ambulance rolled in first, Peter could see the vests of the EMT’s through the two back windows. Two patrol cars pulled into the drive and made him tense up. Harley stood up, holding his hand in the air and watching the EMT’s pouring out. “Help him first,” he half asked, and half told.

 

Peter managed to stand shakily from the backseat, and Harley watched as he was led into the back of the van.

 

“My brother, h – he hit his head. He was unconscious for over an hour, there’s a gash.” Peter explained. Harley was guided onto the spare stretcher as the police went into the house.

 

“It’s not too deep, you’re lucky,” one of the EMT’s said, “you won’t need stitches. But you will need to ice it and I’ll give you some bandaging.”

 

“Okay, thanks,” Harley muttered. He was busy watching Peter being cleaned up on the edge of the step-down from the ambulance. One of the EMT’s was wiping away the mess of blood to assess the damage while the other unfolded a shock blanket and draped it around his small frame.

 

\----

 

“Back in black,” Tony thrummed his thumbs along the outside of the steering wheel. “I hit the sack,” he gently jerked his head back and forth to the beat of the music. “I’ve been too long, I’m glad to be back!” He smiled as he took a turn onto the very familiar road he had driven down and back up so many times, thanks to Peter’s decathlon competitions and Harley’s old Saturday robotics club meetings. God, his neck hurt from all the damn sitting around and discussing things his meeting had entailed. He was almost home, everything would be be fine.

 

Tony sucked in a breath, drumming his fingers loudly, “forget the hearse, ‘cause I’ll never die, I got nine lives, cat’s eyes!” He flicked the indicator even though the road was empty aside from his car – it was two in the morning, to be fair – and pulled over onto the gravel driveway.

 

He smiled to himself and briefly considered calling ahead before realising, if it was two in the morning, hopefully both Harley and Peter would be asleep. “Cause I’m back, yes I’m back! Well, I’m back, yes I’m back.” Tony rounded the corner of the hill, sighing happily as he relaxed in his seat at the sight of the familiar lookout to the sea. He was home from that stupid business trip, and nothing was more of a relief to know.

 

He could see the edge of the drive, the gravel seemed to be red and blue flashes against the white concrete. _What the hell_? He thought, _why were there vans parked in the drive_? _Had those little shits thrown a house party_ …?

 

Then, he saw it. The yellow tape, the ambulance lights, the patrol cars taking up his drive. The music in the car clicked off as he yanked the keys out of the ignition and shoved open the door as the car rolled to a slow stop. “What’s happening?” He called, hysteria bubbling up in his chest like a tidal wave. One uniformed officer standing behind the tape held a hand up. “No, no – th – this is my house. I live here!” He cried, consumed by the rawest panic he’d experienced since New York.

 

The man squinted at him before recognition seemed to dawn on his face. “My kids,” Tony forced out. “Where are they? My kids were home, they were right here – where are they? Please!” He tried ducking under the yellow tape, but he was met with resistance from the officers. A hand was on his shoulder and there were people shouting ‘ _Sir, there’s no one inside_ ,’ but it didn’t matter. “Stop, get off me! This is my house; I have a right to know what’s happening!” He yelled, swatting a hand away from his shoulder. He craned his neck to try and see through the doorway.

 

 _Maybe it was just a break-in. Peter and Harley would have gone out for dinner and someone tried to break-in while they were out. Everything was okay. Everything **had** to be okay_.

 

Two paramedics were pulling a gurney out through the front entrance when he phased back in from his brief interlude from the cold grip of panic. The wheels clattered against the stones and they rattled in the same irregular beats of Tony’s heart thundering against his chest. There was a black body bag laid across it, zipped up completely with no nametag.

 

There was a pitch-black hole carving out his insides and twisting the last shred of calmness Tony might have had as he turned into his own driveway. Lights from the ambulance and police cars swirled around him, his heart was pummelling his ribcage and slowly clawing its way up his throat. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see through the furious tears prickling his tear ducts and waterline, fighting to spill across his face.

 

“Sir, is this your address?” An officer asked. Tony could see a pen hovering above a half-filled notepad. He nodded wordlessly, still watching the two paramedics guiding the body bag across the driveway. “And you have identification on you?”

 

“I… what happened?” He asked hoarsely. His throat bobbed as he took a shaky inhale, feeling the dryness in his mouth. “Wh – who…” Tony lifted a finger, gesturing towards the gurney and the dead body tucked away inside the black bag. “Is that –”

 

“Unfortunately, the body had no identification. We’re working on that now,” the officer explained. Tony choked on his next breath. His chest constricted. It felt like his ribcage was locking down on every fragile organ he had. His next inhale sounded raspy and far from steady.

 

He ran a hand through the front of his hair, tugging on the strands near the back of his head as he turned away from the house and squeezed his eyes shut.

 

“Sir,” a man in an EMT’s uniform touched the small of his back to guide him forward, away from the house and towards the ambulance. “Your s –” He began fruitlessly.

 

“Dad!”

 

Tony jerked, his eyes opening and taking a moment to adjust to the lights of the emergency vehicles. Something wrapped in reflective, bright, silver fabric rustled. Feet hit the gravel and Tony was met with a weight slamming into his torso. He exhaled on a huff of air he hadn’t realised he had, and blinked before looking down and leaning back to see whatever had wrapped itself around his midsection.

 

“Harley?” He asked helplessly.

 

“Yeah – yeah,” the teen mumbled. He tightened his hold and pulled Tony into a more compact embrace as his father started to breathe properly again.

 

“Pete?” He choked, not wanting to ask but _having_ to know. Harley nodded from against his chest, pulling away and wiping his nose on his sleeve. He turned away from Tony and looked across the driveway, raising a blood-crusted finger to point.

 

Peter was sat on the edge of the ambulance, wrapped in a silver shock blanket like Harley’s. He looked miserable. There was an EMT standing over the gravel, they were bent over the young teen, wiping a cloth over one side of his face. The rag came back stained in brown tinted blood. The EMT put a pack over his cheek, they said something about reducing the swelling that Tony couldn’t quite catch from where he was stood.

 

Harley had a pack of his own which he held against the back of his head; a shock blanket hung limp from around his shoulders. Harley moved forward back across to the ambulance; Tony followed him hurriedly.

 

When the EMT stood up and gave the three room, Tony surged forward to pull Peter into his chest. Harley tucked the shock blanket tighter over his brother’s shoulders as he melted into Tony’s hug.

 

“Dad,” he whispered, letting Tony rest his chin over the crown of his head.

 

“I thought – I thought one of you had… y – yeah.” Tony admitted, pulling back slightly to drape an arm around Harley’s shoulders and guiding him into the hug.

 

“No,” Harley assured. “There was a guy,” he said quietly. “I don’t really know.” He sighed, looking down to where Peter still had his head nudged under his father’s chin. “He wanted money.”

 

“When was this, tonight?” Tony asked, finally pulling away from the hug to make sure Harley was properly holding the ice pack against the back of his head. Harley looked over at Peter, who was staring at his feet guiltily.

 

“The same night you left,” he explained. “He left an message on the answering machine and then turned up at the house.” Tony tilted his head, rubbing his forehead. “I’m sorry, h – he wanted money, he said you lent him money before and now he needed more, but I said you weren’t home a – and that he couldn’t wait in the house for you just in case he –”

 

“ _Shit_ okay, you’re okay,” Tony fumbled, pulling Peter back into a hug as he noticed the boy’s panic creeping up into an anxiety attack. “I’m so sorry.” Peter hissed when his cheek bumped against Tony’s jacket. “Wha – oh Pete,” Tony mumbled as he looked closely at Peter’s face for the first time.

 

It was mottled with a dark mess of purple and blue skin, the cheekbone looked like it had been dipped in ink. The jutting bone beneath his eye was swollen, enough so that he struggled to open it fully. There was clotted blood hanging from his hairline, and butterfly bandages stuck over a split lip and a cut above his eyebrow.

 

“M’ okay,” Peter insisted, probing the inside of his cheek gingerly to stop from wincing as Tony tilted his face side to side, surveying the damage. “Harley’s the one who got hurt.”

 

“Did not, I’m fine,” Harley argued. He sighed as Tony gently took the icepack away from the back of his head and pushed his hair back to check the gash. He clicked his tongue unhappily and frowned at the two boys.

 

“He was here for me,” he said stiffly. “I lent him some money not too long ago, but he’s tied up with… I don’t know, with someone, and he owes them a lot.” Tony exhaled; his brow wrinkled as he began to continue on with his explanation. “I didn’t think he’d ever come to the house. He was never _supposed_ to, it was going to be dealt with in private, away from you two. He shouldn’t have known you even existed.” He rubbed his palms together and bit his cheek.

 

“Dad, what are you trying to say?” Harley asked worriedly, squinting at his father and straightening up. He could read emotions well enough at this point that he could tell Tony was about to say something big.

 

“I uh… _jeez_ , um…” Tony stepped closer, looking around the driveway and observing exactly how far away all the medical and police staff were from their small huddle.

 

He turned back to face Peter and Harley, his eyebrows furrowed as he took a deep breath and spoke. “I might… be the leader of the mafia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did'ya like the lil twist there? Mafia AU?! Who would have seen _that_ one coming... :)

**Author's Note:**

> <3 <3 <3
> 
> I have a Tumblr! ~ It's agib_2002 ~
> 
> I post on there - it's all Marvel (especially irondad)
> 
> And an Instagram (I don't use it much but it's there for anyone who likes the occasional post or if anyone prefers Instagram over Tumblr!)  
> ~ It's also agib_2002 ~ Please give me a follow if you're interested <3
> 
> A few people have commented and mentioned that they've read more than just one of my fics and enjoyed them, so, if anybody wants to, I'd be really happy responding to asks and getting prompts to write if you leave them on Tumblr, or Instagram.
> 
> So... yeah, leave an ask/suggestion if you want me to read and respond to it (or even just ask any questions you're curious about me or my writing or anything really).
> 
> I'd honestly be happy talking about anything if anyone messaged me, so feel free to hit the asks/submissions/messages if you wanted to say anything at all.
> 
> <3


End file.
